Lively - Accidental Mistake

No way we got married last night RIGHT?

My new neighbor is hot, arrogant, and a complete jerk.

From trimming my rose bushes to not understanding personal boundaries.

Liam Addair is doing his best to drive me insane.

But it turns out the Scottish stud might actually have a heart of gold.

When my ex and his new fiance walked into the bar,

He pretended to be my boyfriend and saved me.

Now well have to fake it 'til the end of summer.

That's when Liam and my ex will leave Magnolia Falls.

And my life will go back to being very uncomplicated.

But what happens when faking it gets a little too real?

And I end up accidentally married and pregnant by mistake!

Hes a movie star from a family worth billions.

Could he even settle down with someone as ordinary as me?

The marriage certificate is signed, and this baby is very real.

But who knows what will happen to us when summer ends

* * *

Two weeks earlier

I 'm waiting for it as I hand the single perfect rose to the woman in front of me. Her fingertips touch the velvety petals, delicately tracing their edges. It's coming. It always does.

This rose is from a bush that grows in my yard, I tell her. It was planted there by my great-grandparents when they first built the house. They were the first people to build on that street, and before their furniture was even in the home, they planted the roses.

It's so beautiful, Alyssa whispers. I've never seen one quite like it.

It grew this way for a special reason. Before my great-grandparents were even a couple, their families had pieces of land right next to each other. They each grew roses, too. My great-grandfather's family grew white roses, and my great-grandmother's family had pink ones. They tended the roses carefully every single day, and that's how they met. Of course, at that time, they couldn't just start dating, so they watched each other through the flowers. They slowly fell in love over whispers of good morning and lingering gazes over the flowers. Even during the coldest part of the winter when the bushes went dormant, they would come out to trim them or brush away the dead leaves, just so they could see each other.

Just so they could see each other, she repeats softly.

I nod.

That's right. When the days got cold and dark, and snow kept them from being able to go outside entirely, they longed for each other. Both wished for the springtime so they could go back to their roses. When the warm weather returned, they went back to their bushes and waited patiently for the tiny buds to blossom. When they did, the two of them discovered the bushes closest together had blended. Where there had once been white roses on one property and pink on the other, there were now pink and white flowers blooming unlike anything they had ever seen before. My great-grandparents knew in their hearts that it happened because of their love for each other. The roses were their sign that they were meant to be together. They were married by the end of the summer, and when they built this house, they used cuttings from those original bushes to plant bushes of their own. They loved each other for their whole lives, and every generation of my family has held one of those roses on their wedding day.

There it is. The tear. It's not a wedding day until I make that one perfect tear trickle down the bride's cheek when I present the pink-and-white marbled rose from my bush.

The sniffling behind me makes me turn. Judy dabs her cheeks from where she stands near the wall.

And not until I make my assistant, Judy, cry, too, apparently.

Knowing she's caught in a tear fest, Judy busies herself by preparing the gifts that Alyssa will give her bridesmaids and flower girls when they come in for the big reveal of her gown. I brush the tear away from her cheek and pull the veil down over her face.

I turn back to Alyssa. You look beautiful, I tell her. Rodney is a very lucky man.

I am a lucky woman, she says with a slightly trembling smile. She takes a breath. I'm ready.

With that, Judy flings open the doors to the bridal suite, and a deluge of gushing women descends on Alyssa. She's a fairly sturdy woman, which is good, because if she was one of the feathery lightweights like the confusing double wedding for identical twins earlier this year, she might not have survived the first wave of hugs.

Let's not wrinkle the bride, I say cheerfully.

It's my professional voice. What I really want to say is it took me three hours to remove the salsa stain from the unfortunate sister-of-the-bride snacking incident and steam that damn dress, so back off. But that would be unbecoming of a wedding planner.

They keep fussing and nuzzling, and a pair of red lips heads for Alyssa's cheek, despite the veil.

Everybody! Step away from the bride!

Sometimes, though, becoming doesn't work. Sometimes, Miss Wedding Hard-Ass is the only way to get a woman down the aisle intact and successfully turn all those doodles from her middle school journal into real-life memories. You've got to know the difference, and that's why people hire me.

Alyssa's female friends and relatives peel themselves reluctantly away from Alyssa, who steps back looking a bit flustered, but still presentable, for the most part. We fluff her back up, and I check the clock. Time for gifts and giggles, followed by getting Alyssa's ass to the end of the aisle. Alyssa takes her place beside the small table where Judy arranged the gifts and hands them out to the clickety-clickety of the photographers catching every single movement.

Ten minutes later, Alyssa is successfully at the altar, and the officiant's voice takes over for the constant repetition of my to-do list in my head. Judy is still sniffling as we creep out of the ceremony venue to oversee the cocktail hour and reception preparations. I offer her another tissue from my bag.